Give Me the Prize!
by JP McClendon
Summary: At last, the Game comes to an End, and Methos is one of the participants. Sequel to Highlander Emergence. WIP, Please R&R.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: **I do not claim to own any of the rights to the Highlander Franchise. This is merely a fanfiction, and I am receiving no money for writing it. The only thing I own are the characters created specifically for this story. Thank you.

**Prologue**

"You're going to die, MacLeod," said Methos as he stood over his fallen opponent. "Accept it."

A bloody and badly beaten Duncan MacLeod was on his hands and knees in front of his attacker. "You haven't won yet," said Duncan in a raspy voice that displayed his obvious pain. "You aren't the last."

"That may be true," commented Methos. "But it's not something you really need to worry about now, is it?"

"After all that we've been through, it ends like this?" asked Duncan as he looked up at Methos.

"It ends like this," said Methos as he raised his sword. "After all, there can be only one."

With that he brought his sword down and beheaded Duncan effortlessly. A figure in the darkness stepped back so as to allow Methos his moment of Quickening. She smiled at the awesome power that was surging into his very being. They were now the two most powerful Immortals in the history of the Game. The Kurgan and Jacob Kell paled in comparison to the two of them. When the Quickening had settled, Kiar stepped out from the darkness to help Methos up to his feet.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asked.

"Yes, I did," replied Methos a little smugly. "Are you all set for the finale?"

"I am," she answered. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"No time like the present, love. Besides, if we wait we run the risk of another Immortal being born. The Game ends tonight."

"I always knew it would come down to the two of us. There was never any doubt in my mind."

Methos smiled at her and took her hand in his. "No matter the outcome," he said. "I love you."

Kiar pulled her hand from Methos's and brought it up to rest upon his cheek. "I have loved you since the first time we met," she said to him. "What must happen tonight will not change anything."

"I know," said Methos as he put his hand over hers. "But this is the way it must be."

Kiar gave Methos a loving kiss on the lips that seemed to last an eternity. When at last their kiss ended, she looked at him with sad eyes. "Goodbye, my love," she said to him as she withdrew from his embrace.

Methos gave her a weak smile and then knelt down to pick up his fallen sword. "Are you ready?"

"I am," said Kiar as she drew her sword. "There can be only one."

"Sadly yes," agreed Methos. "There can be only one. And tonight we learn who that is."

**To be continued…**


	2. Hearing a Call

**Hearing a Call**

_**Six months earlier:**_

Methos awoke that morning with a slight headache. He and Kiar had been up late last night drinking sake among other things. When he looked to his side, he found that he was alone in bed. "How disconcerting," he said as he sat up and reached for his robe.

Outside, Kiar was in the middle of her morning weapons kata. She felt that her last night's workout in bed with Methos had not been enough so she got up early. This morning something felt different. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was and it annoyed her. When she felt the Quickening, she turned around and saw Methos exiting the temple. "What is that?" she demanded of him.

"It's called a robe, love," he replied. "The one I wear every morning before breakfast, remember?"

"Not the robe, idiot," hissed Kiar. "The air. There's something in the air."

Methos frowned, but closed his eyes to see if he could sense what Kiar was talking about. He quickly realized that he, too, could feel what Kiar was talking about. For almost ten minutes, he stood silently with his eyes closed trying to discern what it was.

"Do you feel it?" asked Kiar.

"Yes," said Methos finally before turning to walk away.

"Well?" demanded Kiar. "What is it?"

"The call of the Gathering, Love," he said nonchalantly. "Pay it no mind. It will go away."

"Go away?" asked Kiar astounded as she grabbed him by the arm. "How can that happen?"

"Love," began Methos. "The Gathering began in 1986 when Connor MacLeod took the head of the Kurgan."

"It did?"

"Yes. But since new Immortals come into the Game all the time, the Gathering periodically stalls."

"That sounds weak."

"Yes, it does. And do you want to know a piece of trivia that's even weaker?"

"Educate me."

"The Kurgan's Quickening was so powerful that when Connor MacLeod got it, it was briefly believed that it was actually the Prize."

"Who thought that?"

"Well, Connor MacLeod for one. And…everyone else who watched the fight happen. And it remained the popular belief until 1992 when Duncan MacLeod re-entered the Game."

"But how can that be?"

"Well, for starters, certain Immortals like you and I were not 'In the Game' at the time and our whereabouts were unknown. It remains the biggest clerical mistake in Watcher history."

"You were right. That is weak."

"Thank you. I thought you'd think so."

"So what do we do about this call of the Gathering?"

"I rather think we shouldn't bother with it."

"Or…"

"Or what, Love?"

"Or we could heed the call and end the Game."

"That's never going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because new Immortals come into the Game too frequently."

"Yes, but don't the Watchers find out about them and enter them into their database?"

"Of course they do, Love. But in order to…make, sure, that…"

"Yes?" prodded Kiar with a smile. "You can say it."

Methos put his hand over his mouth and realized exactly where the conversation was leading them. "Are you suggesting that we use the Watchers' own database to find every last Immortal still in existence and take their heads?" he asked her.

"Well," began Kiar. "Now that you bring it up, that sounds like a good suggestion. Do you still have access to the database?"

"Technically no," said Methos. "But that wouldn't really stop me."

"Then we are agreed then?"

"Wait, Love. You're serious about this?"

"Why not? Aren't you bored just hanging around this temple day in and day out? Don't you want to get the juices flowing?"

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I thought the Spectre wasn't going to end the Game until she thought humanity was ready for the Prize."

"Actually, the Legend says that the Spectre will choose when the Game will end. I said that humanity didn't need the Prize yet. There is a difference."

"Indeed there is," said Methos as he took Kiar in his arms, dipped her, and gave her a long kiss. "Where, then, shall we begin?"

**To be continued…**


	3. Plan of Attack

**Plan of Attack**

A few days later, Methos was sitting in front of a computer screen looking over a list of names. Kiar walked in quietly behind him and put her arms on his shoulders. "Is that it?" she asked.

"Yes it is," said Methos as he reached up to hold one of her hands. "Broken down by continent and country. Do you still want to do this? It isn't too late to back out."

Kiar said nothing as she stared at the list and saw the amount of names on it. "If we lose the nerve now…" she began.

"We'll never get it back," said Methos to finish her thought. Kiar moved her free to Methos's cheek. "How would you like to break the list up?"

"By continent sounds easiest," replied Kiar.

"I would say that that sounds reasonable, Love," said Methos. "Since we are in agreement, please choose the first continent."

"Asia," said Kiar as she moved her hand from Methos' cheek.

"And I shall choose…" began Methos thoughtfully. "North America. Your turn."

"Europe."

"Interesting choice, Love. I shall take South America then."

"Australia and the Pacific."

"Well, then that only leaves Africa and the Middle East. Thank you."

Kiar smiled nervously. "I feel scared," she said. "Do you think that odd?"

"Not at all, Love," said Methos. "I feel the same way."

Kiar wrapped both her arms about Methos and held him tightly. "If any on our journey overcomes you," she said. "I will be lost."

"Touching sentiment, Love," said Methos as he patted her arm. "Though I think you would actually feel anger and then take the head of the person who takes mine."

"True," said Kiar. "But I would still feel sorrow first."

"And will you still feel sorrow if it is you who takes my head?"

"Always and forever."

"That, at least, is a comforting thought."

"And would you feel sorrow if you took my head?"

"Without a doubt, Love. Without a doubt."

**To be continued…**


End file.
